


finding it harder to breathe

by thankstyler



Series: Dirk's Ocean [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Anxiety, Brooding, Established Relationship, M/M, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 02:09:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14154381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thankstyler/pseuds/thankstyler
Summary: He knows you hate losing control, but you know he loves it when you let him see you out of control.





	finding it harder to breathe

He knows you hate losing control, but you know he loves it when you let him see you out of control.

You've been having a difficult time explaining things to him lately. Dodging questions like they're bullets, avoiding his presence like you have an allergy. And even though you never could and probably never will be able to swim, you're wading chest-deep through emotions. The tide is getting thicker and trying to sweep you under. You refuse, you persist. And the eddies are still sucking you by the limbs. It's like trying to walk with your ankles tied together. And yet here he is, ghosting his dark lips over your temple like you're a treasure in one of millions of crypts. Your sentence falters because he's so perfect, so wonderfully beautiful.

He relishes every moment your glass breaks. In fact, Jake taps it; pokes and prods at the cobwebbing effect all of these microfractures are creating. You shield yourself in passive-aggression and extreme levels of wu-wei. When you were younger, you and Dave would go so far as to become nocturnal beings for months on end to avoid the other over something petty. Something fake. But the feeling of his hand splayed across your hipbone is real, and it's very warm in comparison to your cool-toned everything.

Jake wakes you up in the morning with coffee as brown as his beautifully coppery skin, makes you sip it down and offers you delicious breakfasts. You feign innocence and interdependence, but you know that he's an angel without you. That's where moments like this come, when you're trembling ceaselessly because he likes you, wants you. You want to express the same, but find yourself just leaning heavily into attention. A sense of being starved for affection comes with isolation. You pretend to be happy about lonliness more than he knows; more than he ever will know. You're exhausted of being tired and by yourself, squinting into your computer screen like a relic is hidden underneath the monitor's screen.

You feel him shift, pressing gentle, ticklish kisses across your paper-smooth skin. He's spent hours counting your freckles before. You almost had a heart attack when he'd glance back into your eyes (like he could just fucking track them through your reflective shades and just undress you seamlessly with a gaze, Jesus Christ). But he loves the side of you that wants to talk but mentally interrupts himself. The absence of your normally smooth-like-butter exterior. He goes for the jugular and seeps this honey, gooey, can't breathe can't think can't do anything but feel; the nectar in you. You think it's why you love him. You aren't sure.

"Dirk, dearest," he whispers, "are you quite alright? I do realize you're sensitive, chap, but you're quivering much like an autumn leaf." Jake adores affirming your collapse. And you let him.

Your voice comes out smooth like silk, because it takes an awful lot for your mental control to waver and shut down. You are a fine-tuned machine, it takes more than one virus. "Peachy, Jake. I'm doing mighty fucking peachy."

"Oh, fantastic!" He grins, that super goofy and lopsided smile that makes you melt, and leans down to continue at your neck. 

You've long since leaned your head back (this position is a bit contortionist-y, with your back to Jake's chest) to allow him as he will to continue making an utter mess of you. You manage silence, which is not the response he's looking for. Something deep inside of you wants him to drive it out of you, to really destroy your pride before he manages to break you to that extent. But you know he's already tiptoeing the line acrobatically. Much like you, he's well-trained in his arts. You realize to your distaste that you're his instrument of choice. Not even distaste; you revel in the fact that he loves you and at the same time it makes you so ridiculously anxious that you can hardly hold onto sanity sometimes.

Brooding has always been the solution, you suppose. You have a nook plotted out in your head, where you go when you're feeling nervous. You just rethink things, sometimes to the point where you overthink. And somedays, you're oddly okay with it. It makes you more comfortable to have thought about it in the first place. Unfortunately, with Jake, these thoughts normally lead you out of moments like the one you're experiencing now. A definite disconnect in reality. You dissociate a lot. Often. Sometimes, you regret it. Other times, you find it to be better than living in the real world where you're so afraid that you're about to lose Jake that you can hardly breathe. With that on your mind, you steady your breathing a bit.

Jake peeks up and kisses you properly. In his lap, you manage to twist so you're just facing each other and thread fingers between his hair. You don't realize how dreadfully tight you're holding onto him until he pulls back, red-faced and obviously flustered. How the tables have turned. He whispers a "Gadzooks," and you almost laugh. Instead, you kiss him again because you're desperate. He knows that, but you appreciate that he pretends he doesn't.

"You've been so quiet lately."

"Shit's on my mind."

"I really do hope you didn't just refer to me as shit, Dirk." And he says it so cockily, like he knows that you did. He reads into you a lot better than he used to.

"I love you."

Jake seems startled, not by the words, but how you say them like you're so close to crying it hurts. The lump in your throat stings harsher than you'd ever imagined it would've. You feel like you're grasping at everything you have when you're holding onto Jake and it really stings when you think so low on yourself. You know he loves you, you really do, but you can't bring yourself out of this abyss of self-pity and pessimism. Why doesn't he leave? Why doesn't he find someone who isn't such a broken piece of glass?

Instead of answering you with words, he pulls you into a tight hug. He's always been a tad bit less wiry than you are, even if he's a little bit shorter, and it makes him feel so secure. You realize, with a bit of emotional instability, you're crying. And the tears burn, just like your muscles do. Your whole body feels like it's burning at the stake.

"Dirk, darling, I love you too. And I really and truly hope you understand that sometimes."

You're chewing your lip. "I do, dude. I'm just a fucking wreck. I don't know," you're babbling with no direction. It doesn't normally get this bad, and normally you're a lot better at not getting so far lost in your own mind. Sometimes, you just lose sight of everything and anything tangible and fall into your own instabilities and insecurities. They feel like a place you know, but in reality, treading over the beaten paths makes them crumble more and risk you tumbling and falling.

And yet, now, he's managing to pull you out of that headspace. The toxicity of yourself is fading and the warmth of him feels so much kinder. You stop crying soon after, and he holds you until you're droopy with exhaustion, thumbing through the baby hairs on the back of your neck.

Your head is a roller coaster you wish you were too short to ride on.

He reminds you distinctly of the waves you used to hear outside the apartment, and how they promised you something and nothing at the same time. How they made you horribly sick to your stomach, but how they still managed to soothe you. Jake is your ocean, here and now, vast and yours to explore. And he's unforgiving, but he loves you, will love you. You just feel the need to tread lightly.

**Author's Note:**

> not a super heavy part of this series, honestly, just a little glimpse into what it must've been like in the crypts before everything really started rolling.
> 
> i wanted to couple it in because i'm bad at writing consistently lol


End file.
